


Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free

by ls2k14



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Crush, Awkward Harry, Drinking, Drunk Harry, Football Player Louis, Jealous Louis, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Louis, Secret Crush, University Student Harry, University Student Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ls2k14/pseuds/ls2k14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin. </p><p>And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work in its entirety belongs to maggieisalarrie (previously ls2k14) and is open to constructive criticism. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal, translate, or print/distribute.
> 
> If you like this and are interested in a sequel, please consider joining my [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/maggieisalarrie%20) family!

_What could possibly be interesting enough to write about?_ Harry can’t even formulate coherent thoughts half the time these days, how could his professor think he’s going to be able to come up with an acceptable story to cover for his journalism article when he’s supposed to be finishing up all of his other projects at the same time? Christ, he still has to finish editing his photos and figure out which five he’s going to narrow it down to for his portfolio. _Don’t professors remember being in uni? Don’t they remember hating all of their professors for assigning projects all at the same time? Don’t they remember running on six hours of sleep for the past two days while trying to find the time to do all of their work while also maintaining their jobs to actually pay for these classes?_

Harry scoffs. He can’t expect his professors to remember what any of this was like for them when it must have been at least 180 years since this particular gem of a prof had a class in which he was a student, not the teacher himself; and honestly, the rest of his professors aren’t far behind.

_Okay. Focus. FOCUS! This is easy. Pick a topic. Any topic. Any topic at all and just go with it. Come on, Harry._

And just as he’s about to decide on something to go with, _he_ happens to walk through the door and wipe Harry’s mind completely blank. _Him_ in all of his blue-eyed beauty. All of his petite, fragile, soft, curvy and yet masculine, powerful, sharp, defined wonderment. All of his brashness and loudness and addictive laughter. All of his distracting-ness…

_Distracting-ness? What even? What even IS that? What is going on?_

Seriously. Harry seriously needs more sleep. And soon. Like, preferably yesterday. He just needs to pack up his stuff and get the hell out of here before he—

Right. There goes his tea. All over the table his papers and notes and laptop and phone are covering. All over the floor and his shoes… And _of course_ all over the nice, new-looking Vans of someone standing next to his table. Because Harry’s luck definitely wore out after he won that Battle of the Bands contest back in school. He blames his mum for making him and the boys go through with that. He actually blames himself for his love of singing but that’s neither here nor there since someone just cleared their throat and brought Harry out of his mental downward spiral.

He looks up, an apology already rolling off of his tongue. And then all that comes out is some strange, weak sounding noise. Something similar to that sound that escapes your throat without your consent when you’re trying not to cry in public. Because of course, of _bloody_ course, Harry just _had_ to spill his lukewarm tea all over the nice, new-looking Vans of one Louis Tomlinson.

_Not “one” Louis Tomlinson_ , he corrects in his head. _THE Louis Tomlinson_. The same Louis Tomlinson with those blue, _so very blue_ , eyes. The same boy with the addictive laugh and the distracting-ness that has Harry cringing at himself momentarily before he mentally scolds himself and throws out a half-arsed “Sorry! So sorry! Here, let me just—” and then proceeds to drop to his knees in front of _THE Louis Tomlinson_ in an attempt to clean up the watery, brownish splatters that now coat Louis’ nice, new-looking Vans.

Harry hears a sort of squeak and some muffled laughter from above and promptly looks up and right into those blue, _so very blue_ , eyes that belong to the boy of Harry’s wet dreams. Louis looks painfully uncomfortable. His mouth slightly parted and eyes wide and full of surprise and maybe just a hint of something else but Harry isn’t able to get a grasp on that before someone is full on cackling and drawing the attention of the rest of the patrons in the cafe that hadn’t already caught the encounter that will surely haunt Harry for a very, _very_ long time.

He knows that cackle. That’s the very same cackle that is always there just cackling its-dumb-cackle-self away at seemingly all of Harry’s mishaps. And it definitely belongs to the absolute worst roommate of all time.

Although, Harry supposes, he certainly could have ended up with a far worse roommate than his childhood best friend. Since, you know, they sort of planned moving away and rooming together at uni.

But anyway…

Harry throws daggers with his eyes in the general direction he hears Niall from and before he can get a word out, said Irishman is slapping him, _hard_ he may add, on the back and saying between gasps of breath and breathless laughter, “Ha-Harry! Mate! Ya absolute klutz! Look at what ya did ta poor Lou’s favorite shoes!”

Harry is almost positive Niall was put on this planet to ensure that Harry lives a well and thoroughly embarrassed life for the entirety of his existence. Because not only is Niall painfully aware of Harry’s little crush, but he had also gone out and made it his personal mission to become best mates with Harry’s little crush as soon as Harry had told him last year about the “really fit lad on the footy team” that he had seen while covering the match for one of his other articles.

They had been at a party held by someone Niall had a class with at the time and Harry had spotted Louis almost right away. It was just like all of those cliché rom-coms where the sea of party-goers seems to part and a spotlight marks the pined-after person’s place amongst the crowd.

Of course, what actually happened was he and Niall walked through to the kitchen for drinks and Louis had been atop the island countertop, dancing away wildly and twirling his shirt in circles above his head while belting out the wrong lyrics to some horrible, popular pop song.

And, okay, Harry may have been a bit tipsy from the vodka Niall had shoved into his arms during the pre-game party in their dorm. It’s just that Harry was sure someone had at least shone a torchlight on Louis’ sweaty but glorious face when they walked in. He didn’t need Niall telling him that the ceiling light had been conveniently placed above where Louis had declared the appropriate location for his “show.”

Niall had laughed and roared and cackled that very same cackle and yelled, “Mate! What are ya doin’!?” Which then lead Louis to screech like a banshee and invite the “pretty blonde lad” to join him on his “stage” and help him “give their audience a proper show.”

Niall left that night, not only _without_ a very drunk Harry who had to stumble his way home alone, but with an arm slung around an equally as drunk Louis’ shoulders and had declared Louis as his “new best mate since I can’t seem ta find me Hazza.”

Ever since that night, Niall had always been around Louis and his mates, Liam and Zayn. Sometimes they would take up nearly all of the space in their dorm to play on Niall’s Xbox and Harry would make some excuse about a deadline or a paper and run to hide in the library with his tail tucked neatly between his legs and his head ducked low. Niall always asked Harry to join them at the pub for drinks or to head out to the clubs with them or to hang out at Louis, Liam and Zayn’s shared apartment for pizza and beer and video games and all that makes up a lad’s night but Harry usually made up pretty believable excuses, or so he thought. But no matter what Harry told him, Niall always gave him that look. The look that says “I don’t believe you for a single second” and “mate, you’re pathetic, just come hang out.”

It’s just that every time Harry took Niall up on his offers to hang out with them, he always, _always_ , made himself look like an idiot. He would find the only way to embarrass himself in front of Louis and then execute it perfectly.

And now he’s gone and ruined Louis’ favorite shoes. _Great._

“I’m so sorry! I was just packing up to head out and I accidentally knocked my tea all over everything. I’m so sorry. I can buy you a new pair. I can replace them. Let me—”

“Harold.” Louis’ voice, along with his dainty hand placed delicately on top of Harry’s shoulder, brought him out of his rambling. “Mate, it’s alright. They’re not really my favorites and you definitely don’t need to replace them. They were dirty well before you spilled your drink on ‘em. Don’t worry about it, Curly.”

Harry just sort of stares at him for a bit. It’s not that Louis has never spoken to him before, it’s just that Harry isn’t very good at… Breathing and stuff around Louis.

Niall must take notice of the temporarily frozen state that Harry is currently in and nudges Louis’ shoulder to point out that they still haven’t placed an order. As soon as Louis has turned and is standing at the counter with the barista, Niall helps Harry up and just looks at him again.

“I know. I know that was pathetic and I’m leaving. I’ll be face down in my bed if you need me,” Harry says before Niall can even utter a sound.

“Why don’t ya just clean up that mess ya made and we can sit with ya? Here, I’ll help. Lemme just grab some extra napkins real quick.”

Harry goes back to sopping up the remnants of his tea that hasn’t managed to dry yet while cursing himself for being so flaky and weird all the time. _Why can’t he just talk and act normally around Louis? Why does he have to turn into this spastic, spluttering, tea-spilling mess every time he’s within a reasonable distance of the boy?_

In the midst of his inner turmoil, more napkins flop onto the floor next to the pile of tea-soggy napkins Harry is half-heartedly pushing around. He’s about to scold Niall for throwing them all in the same place and pushing the remaining puddle of tea further into the walkway, making a bigger mess, when he meets those same blue, _so very blue_ , eyes again and freezes. Again.

Louis just smiles a small, closed-lip smile at him after placing his cardboard travel cup on the table and proceeds to shove the napkins around in a way that Harry assumes is supposed to be helpful.

Niall comes back and hands Harry a stack of napkins, so he grabs them from him with a forced smile and gets back to mopping up the mess. They get it (mostly) clean before one of the other employees comes out from the back with a bucket and mop with a look that clearly says, “just stop.”

Harry goes to throw away their soiled napkins and to buy himself a new cuppa before returning to his — their — table. As soon as he’s seated in his previous spot and taken a sip of the scorching liquid, he looks up and is met by two pairs of eyes staring at him. He looks between them for a bit before he decides to ask what’s going on but before he can, Niall stops him.

“We’re going down to the pub tonight. You should come. Relax a bit, let loose. Them papers’ve got ya all uptight.”

“I can’t. I have to meet my deadlines. And I was just assigned another this afternoon so I’ve really got to get going on everything.”

“Yeah, but ya can hardly function right now. I bet if ya came with us and had a few pints, ya’d be able ta sleep through the night ’n’ get all rested up. Then ya can power through all those papers and shite. Get ‘em done quick.” Niall argues.

“But Ni, I’ve got to —” Harry starts and is cut off.

“You should probably try to relax a bit though, too. You can’t expect yourself to be able to write all of your papers and shit if you’re too worn out and tired to even put your stuff in your bag, can you?” Louis starts. “Plus, Liam and Zayn and I were talking the other day and it sure’s starting to seem like you’re avoiding us. Makin’ us think you don’t like us or summat.”

Harry goes to interject that he’s busy with assignments and articles and pictures to take and edit and this and that but Louis just hold his hand up to stop him. “Your excuses are shit, mate. We know you’re busy, but we all are. It’s uni. Just come down to the pub with us for a bit tonight and try to loosen up a little, yeah?”

He sighs deeply and looks between the two before giving in. “I guess I could come for a little while…”

———

And that’s how Harry has found himself seated at a circular hightop table in the middle of the pub down the street from his dorm hall, sat between Zayn and Niall with Louis and Liam across from him, two pints and a shot of vodka in, and talking about the color blue. _Blue._ Because some girl had just happened to walk by their table about three minutes ago with a shirt almost the exact color of Louis’ eyes, so naturally, Harry had blurted out “I just love the color blue. It’s just so… Like, _blue_ , ya know?”

The other lads had looked at him curiously, stopping their conversation about the footy match that’s on the telly. Niall has a suspicious look on his face that Harry thinks means he’s about to say something that will obviously connect Harry’s statement to Louis.

“Lou’s got some nice blue eyes. Don’t ya, Lou Lou!” Harry was right. Niall is not very kind.

Louis’ cheeks pinken up a bit, which Harry may be reaching a bit here, but he definitely didn’t think Louis’ cheeks were that pink when he last glanced over to him (which may have been no more than a minute ago, but who’s keeping track?), but maybe he just didn’t notice. Louis looks around the table before staring directly into Harry’s eyes. He stays looking at him for a few seconds, then seems to come back into himself, blinks rapidly a few times and snaps his gaze over to Niall.

Louis throws his arm around Niall’s neck and pulls him into a one-armed hug, then says to him, “But your eyes are quite blue as well.”

Niall gives him a cheeky smirk and looks back to Harry. “Hazza, who do ya think’s got the bluest eyes? Who’s do ya like best?”

Harry hates Niall. Just the other night Harry was waxing poetic to Niall about how absolutely _blue_ he thought Louis’ eyes were. Now he’s gone and used it against him. He’s never telling Niall anything ever again. Like, _ever_.

Harry looks between the two for long enough that it definitely cannot be classified as a socially acceptable amount of time to formulate a response, even in a semi-drunken state. He stands up abruptly, almost knocking over a waitress walking by. He apologizes to her and turns back to the table to say “I’ve got next round!” and practically sprints up to the bar.

He’s currently going through all of the possible scenarios that could have played out in that situation rather than the one that actually happened when there’s hands on his hips and a mouth by his ear saying “What are you drinking, love?”

Harry steps out of the strange man’s grasp and turns around, giving him a quick once-over. He looks older than Harry and has an awfully tall quiff. But nice eyes. Not blue, but they’re kind. Harry smiles and is just about to explain that he’s actually just grabbing another round for his friends when a new arm slings around his waist. He stops short to look at the newcomer and feels his eyes bug out a bit at the sight of Louis holding onto him, and quite forcefully at that.

“Grimshaw,” Louis greets, short and snappy. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? I didn’t think the elderly handled being out late too well. Don’t you have bingo or summat down at the home in the morning? Your care taker must be terribly worried.”

Harry sort of gapes at Louis. He knows Louis’ outspoken and doesn’t hold much back for anyone, but he’s still surprised with how rude he’s being.

“Sorry!” Harry says to… Grimshaw? The man? Him. With the quiff. Then turns to Louis and says, “What are you doing?”

The man attempts a smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. “S’alright, love. Didn’t know you knew Tomlinson here. He’s a bit of a firecracker, yeah?”

Harry’s about to laugh but Louis butts in again. “Listen Grimshaw, not that it hasn’t been absolutely _lovely_  chatting, but we’ve to get back to our group, so we best be off. Try not to lose your dentures.” Louis throws some money onto the countertop for the barmaid, grabs two of the drinks and gestures for Harry to grab the rest. Harry’s a bit lost on what’s just happened so he does as told and grabs the drinks, throws a smile toward the Grimshaw fellow, then follows Louis back toward their table.

Before they get there, Harry calls out, “Louis. Hey, Louis!” Louis slows down, turns his head and raises an eyebrow at him. “What was that all about?”

Louis rolls his eyes and gives Harry a look. He’s actually kind of glaring at him, so Harry looks down and then back up at him and raises both brows.

“Grimshaw’s a creep and I was saving you the hardship of figuring that out on your own. Don’t mention it.” Louis explains.

Harry’s definitely about to mention it but they’re back at the table and there are three pairs of eyes looking at them quizzically.

“So, Tommo, what was all that about, then?” Zayn’s the first to break the bit of awkward silence that comes with their arrival. Louis looks up and glares at Zayn then glances to Harry briefly, noticing his stare, and shrugs his shoulders while saying, “Grimshaw’s a creep” as a way of explaining.

Harry looks to Zayn and sees him shooting a disbelieving look to Louis, which he assumes is probably meaningful for them but is lost on him. He turns to Niall and finds him already looking between the three of them with a poorly concealed smirk on his face. Niall definitely knows something Harry doesn’t and he’s going to get him to spill.

———

The rest of the night is fairly uneventful. Once everyone gets past the awkward tension remaining from their encounter with Grimshaw, they get back to drinking and talking and laughing.

Harry and Niall make their way home around half one and as soon as the door to their dorm closes, Harry’s all over getting Niall to tell him what really went on.

But no matter what Harry tries, Niall plays dumb. He will not give whatsoever; claims he has no idea what Harry’s on about, that he’s probably drunker than he thought and promptly pushes him toward his bed. Harry really doesn’t think he’s that drunk but as soon as he’s peeled off his jeans and his head hits the pillow, he catches his eyelids drifting shut more often than not. Niall eventually just stops responding to his questioning and accusing of secret keeping, so without anyone to reply to him, Harry realizes he’s just been laying in bed talking to himself.

He also realizes he’s probably drunker than he thought, as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work in its entirety belongs to me, ls2k14. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal or print/distribute.

Harry wakes up to the sound of his pillow vibrating and playing Marimba at a much too-high volume for how early it must be. He weakly searches around his head for his phone and manages to get a grip on it just before it sends his caller to voicemail. Without checking his caller-ID, he answers the call with a faint “Hullo?”

“Harry? Dearie, are you alright? It isn’t like you to be late for your shifts.” Barbara’s voice snaps him to attention in the blink of an eye, bolting straight up into a sitting position that throws his minor headache into a full on migraine while simultaneously almost throwing the contents of his stomach all over his lap and bed. Luckily, he manages to hold down his vomit for the time being but there’s not much he can do for his head at this time since he had obviously forgotten to set his alarm the night before.

“Oh! Shit! I — I mean, uh, sorry, Barbara! I’ll, uh, yeah! No! I’m okay, must’ve overslept I guess. Sorry! I’ll be right in!” He stumbles over his words while he attempts to untangle himself from the mess of blankets and sheets wrapped around him. He’s just hanging up the call as he falls face first to the floor.

And right on cue, Niall’s raucous laughter fills the room. “Mate, yer really havin’ an awful time lately, huh?”

Harry doesn’t grace him with a reply, just finishes unraveling himself from his bedding. He spots his black skinnies from last night and grabs a plain white tee from his drawer and throws them on before rushing down the hall to quickly brush his teeth and try to organize the mess on top of his head. He races back to his room to pull on his boots and grab his keys, wallet and phone before practically running to the bakery a few blocks down the street where he’s most certainly over an hour late for his shift.

When he finally manages to take his position behind the counter, he’s got probably the worst headache he’s ever experienced in his life. He does his best to smile and be as chipper as possible to each person that comes in but he knows he’s falling short. He doesn’t remember drinking all that much last night, but his hangover clearly says otherwise.

The lunch time rush is just starting to slow down when he hears that cackle again. He doesn’t look away from the patron he’s ringing up at the till, just internally rolls his eyes and curses his luck. Niall must be on some super mission to torture Harry. There’s no other explanation.

As soon as Niall steps up to the counter for his turn, he grins and says “Hey, mate! How’re ya holdin’ up?”

Harry just looks at him with the most unimpressed look he can muster up.

Niall cackles. Again. Loudly.

He’s just about to tell Niall to fuck off so he can help some real customers when he notices that Niall didn’t come alone. Louis is standing slightly behind him, apparently studying the menu. And of course, since Harry’s already doing so well today, he instantly freezes up. It’s just… Louis is so damn attractive all the damn time. It should be illegal. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so soft and cuddly and lovely while wearing joggers and a too-big sweatshirt. He shouldn’t be so appealing with the bags under his eyes and his scruffy, stubbly facial hair that Harry really wouldn’t mind being rubbed all over his inner thighs. It shouldn’t be so painfully attractive for him to just be standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his stupid beanie pulled haphazardly over his fluffy hair. He shou—

“Hazza. Mate.” Niall brings him out of his thoughts once again. Harry shakes himself and focuses on Niall, who’s giving him another look. This one says “get your shit together” rather than the one he typically gives him.

“Right. What do you want?” Once Niall’s done listing off nearly everything on their (admittedly short) menu, Harry turns to Louis. “Can I get you anything, Lou?” _Where the hell did the nickname come from?_

Louis looks over to him and raises a brow like he’s trying to figure out the nickname thing, too. He smiles slowly before glancing back up to the menu and then back to Harry quickly. “Can I just get a cuppa Yorkshire please?”

“Sure thing!” He rings them up and starts getting Niall’s feast organized on a tray before fixing their drinks. He’s about to take over their order when Barbara comes out from the back and suggests Harry take his break. He grabs a chocolate chip muffin and a cuppa of his own before making his way over to the table Niall and Louis have claimed, that just so happens to have an extra chair.

As soon as the tray hits the table, Niall gets to work, so to speak. Harry doesn’t even think he’s breathing. He’s just shoveling bite after bite into his mouth. He’s about to scold him like the child he is and warn him about the risk of choking when Louis nudges his arm.

He meets Louis’ eyes and his mouth goes dry. Again.

“He’s disgusting, yeah? Can’t even have a conversation with him when there’s food near.” Harry can’t, for the life of him, get a response out, so he settles for nodding. Louis smiles at him again, then says “So… How’re ya feelin’ today? After last night, I mean.”

Harry groans and hides his face in his hands. He manages to mumble a “not great” from between his fingers.

Louis chuckles. “Yeah, I imagine. You had quite a few.”

Harry nods again, for lack of a better response. They sit there awkwardly for a few minutes, silent apart from the awful sounds Niall makes as he scarfs down every last crumb.

He only has about five minutes left on his break when Niall decides he’d like to have a conversation. “So, Hazza. We’re goin’ out tonight. Down to the club.”

Harry rolls his eyes so hard his head throbs twice as hard as it has been. He’s about to say something along the lines of _yeah, thanks but no thanks, Ni or definitely not after last night_ but Louis decides to interject.

“Yeah, it was fun last night, eh? You should come. It should be fun.”

“I don’t know… I mean —”

“Oh, come now, Harold. You know you had fun last night. And it’ll be even better tonight! You can dance your stress away rather than just sit around and drink this time. Come on. We all know you want to.”

And who is Harry to disagree with Louis?

“Fine. I’ve gotta get back to work, though. I’ll see you guys later.”

———

Louis is just, like, pretty. Like, _so_ pretty. And Harry is drunk. Like, _drunk_ drunk. And he’s having a blast. Because he’s dancing. And Niall is dancing and so is Liam and so is Zayn, although they’re more like, grinding on each other, but whatever. Niall is dancing and so is Liam and so is Zayn and Louis… Louis is definitely dancing. All over the place.

And this guy is dancing too. He’s dancing really close to Harry actually. And he’s attractive. Very attractive. But if Harry remembers correctly, which he may not, since, well, he’s really quite pissed, but he thinks he remembers his eyes being brown. Not blue. Very brown. But he’s dancing and Harry is definitely having fun even though he doesn’t remember if they’ve introduced themselves yet.

Harry spins around and looks into those nice brown eyes and smiles so hard his dimples might have dimples. “I'm Harry,” he shouts over the music.

Brown Eyes smirks at him and puts his hands on his hips, then leans down to say in his ear, “I’m Nick. We kind of met at the pub last night, remember?”

“Oh! Right! Louis was rude to you! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, love. Let’s dance, yeah?”

Harry smiles and starts to dance again, but Nick turns him around and pulls him back against his body. Nick starts moving their hips together and Harry thinks this may count as grinding and it’s not terrible, but he’s not sure if he’s completely loving it.

He’s drunk enough to go with it though.

They dance for about a song and a half before Nick starts to mouth at Harry’s neck. And Harry is definitely drunk, he knows, but if he’s not mistaken, Nick is doing more of a thrusting move rather than grinding now. And… Yep, Harry can definitely feel something firm pressing into his bum from the general area of Nick’s groin.

His eyes snap open and instantly sobers up; not much, but enough to realize this is going somewhere he’s not exactly intending it to tonight. He’s not here for a one night stand, or a hook-up, or to pull or anything else. He’s here to have fun with his mates. All of which seem to be elsewhere.

He starts to crane his head away to look for Niall, or anyone he recognizes really, but Nick seems to take that as an invitation to start sucking a mark where his mouth has been resting. He starts to pull away but Nick has an iron grip on his hips and won’t let him move.

Suddenly, Nick is no longer plastered to his back. He’s relieved but curious, so he turns around to see what caused the abrupt movement and to say he’s a bit shocked would be an understatement. Louis has his fist bunched up in Nick’s shirt, pulling him down so he can say something directly to his face. Harry has no idea what’s being said since the music is so loud, but he can tell neither man is particularly happy.

Harry has honestly never seen Louis’ face so cold and stormy. If that look was directed toward himself, Harry would most definitely be terrified. _Yikes_.

Louis must be done saying whatever it was to Nick, because he turns to Harry and takes the three or four strides to get to him. His face is much softer than it was just seconds before, but he’s clearly unhappy still. He grabs Harry’s wrist and drags him to a booth that Zayn and Liam are snogging in.

“Sit here. I’ll get you a water.” He turns and walks toward the bar, leaving him to deal with Zayn and Liam alone. Niall stumbles his way over soon enough; a pretty blonde girl trailing him.

“Hazza! Mate! Alright?” Harry nods, suddenly feeling sleepy. He’s quite drunk still. And the thumping bass isn’t helping anything.

“I think I’m tired.”

“HA! You look it! Do ya need me ta take ya home, then?”

A cup of water appears in front of his eyes. It’s being held by slim fingers that are connected to a pretty blue-eyed Louis. “What’s going on? You’re leaving?” Harry looks up and into Louis’ eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Lou.” Niall cackles and Louis just smiles at him. Harry doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he smiles anyway. Then he remembers how his head is starting to hurt and the contents of his stomach are kind of sloshing around uncomfortably. “I’m ready to go home I think.”

“Alright, Curly, let’s get ya home. Nialler, you can stay and have some fun, mate. I’ve got him.”

“Ya sure, Lou?”

Louis must convince Niall that he’s okay to take care of Harry, because one second Harry is being pulled out of the booth by his wrists and the next he’s stumbling down the sidewalk, shivering and scuffing his boots as he goes. He’s also leaning most of his weight on someone, so he looks over and sees it’s Louis. Louis who has his arm around Harry’s waist again and is saying something to him.

He definitely didn’t catch even a bit of that. “Hmm?” Harry hums.

Louis looks over to him and their eyes meet again. Louis chuckles and says, “I asked if you’re feeling alright. You look a bit pale. Well, paler than usual.”

Harry considers this for a beat before he starts nodding his head to show he’s fine. He abruptly stops, however, when he gets insanely dizzy. “Muh head hurts, actually. I’m quite drunk, aren’t I?”

Louis outright laughs at that. “Yeah, mate. You’re proper smashed.”

Harry just hums again and keeps scooting along. He’s thinking about how nice it would be to be Louis’ boyfriend and to be able to kiss him whenever he wants and to hold his hand and maybe get a cuddle right now. His thoughts are put to an end when he feels a hand in his pocket. He also notices he’s leaning against a wall. And it’s much brighter than it was a little bit ago.

“Whut are ya doin’, Lou?”

“I’m trying to find your keys, babe. Do you remember where you had them?”

Harry thinks he heard Louis call him babe. _Did that happen? Yeah, pretty sure that happened. Maybe not. It’s so bright. Why are we out here again?_ Louis’ just staring at him expectantly and patting down his other pocket now. Harry thinks he was asked something.

“Huh?”

“Keys. Your keys, Harry. Where do you put your keys?”

_Oh! Right, the keys._ “Oh! Right!” Harry somehow manages to get his wallet out of his back pocket without too much struggling and hands it to Louis. When he looks back up at Louis’ face though, all he can see is confusion. “Uhm, I think I put it in there. So I wouldn’t loose it. Should be… Like, in there.”

Louis snorts and starts to file through Harry’s wallet. He ends up finding the key and getting the door open before Harry manages to slide down the wall to sit on the floor. They’re stumbling through the threshold, Harry holding onto Louis while also trying to get one of his boots off. But Harry is a bit larger than Louis and a bit heavier too, so when Harry trips over his own toes and starts to go down, they’re both doomed.

But the thing is that Harry doesn’t realize they’re falling at all. He just goes from leaning over to pull his shoe off, to laying on the floor with Louis laying on top of him. Louis leans up quickly, bracketing Harry’s head with his elbows and searching his face. “Harry, are you alright?” Harry shakes his head no and then notices that Louis’ moving a bit more, but he doesn’t really want him to get up so he puts his hands on Louis’ waist. Turns out that Louis was just moving his arm so he could brush Harry’s fringe from out of his eyes.

Instead of removing his hand, Louis rests it against Harry’s cheek, thumbing at the skin over his cheekbone. Harry’s eyes flutter shut from the feel and when he opens them again, Louis is just staring at him. They look at each other for what must be years before Louis jumps up out of nowhere.

“Right, then. Uh, let’s just. Um, let’s get you in bed,” Louis stutters out.

And that proves to be quite the feat in itself. Once Harry is seated on his bed, he attempts to get his boots off again but almost takes another fall. Louis steps up to help rid him of his boots, then asks, “Are you sleeping in your jeans?” Harry decides against the trousers and unbuttons them himself, then works on getting the zip open. Once those are done, he lays back and pushes at his waistband, shimmying his hips to try wriggle out of his skinnies.

Louis seems to take mercy on him and sighs before saying, “For fuck’s sake, Harold, did you paint these on?” He then starts pulling at his jeans and cursing Harry for choosing to wear such tight clothes. Harry’s so focused on not getting hard from watching Louis rip his jeans down his legs that he doesn’t notice his pants have started to shift downwards as well.

Louis gives a particularly harsh tug on his jeans to finally get them past his hips which ends up tugging on his pants too. Harry just barely manages to get a hold on the waistband of his boxer briefs before they would have been pulled low enough to give Louis a clear view of his meat and potatoes completely. Harry instantly blushes and looks up at Louis to find the other boy staring right at his hands. Louis meets Harry’s eyes and blushes with him.

They stare at each other again until Louis decides to pull his jeans the rest of the way off. Harry fixes his pants as best he can and promptly gets under his covers. Louis brings him his trash bin and sets it on the floor near his head and turns to Niall’s side of the room.

Harry watches him get into Niall’s mini fridge to grab two waters and then over to Niall’s desk where he shuffles a few things around before finding what he’s looking for. He comes back and hands Harry two pills and a bottle of water and instructs him to drink the entire first bottle. While Harry’s sipping on the water, Louis grabs his previously discarded jeans and pulls his phone out of the pocket to set on his bedside table next to the second bottle of water.

“Louis?”

He glances at Harry before turning back to throwing his jeans in the hamper and his boots over to the side of the room. “Yeah?”

“You’re very pretty.” Harry is very drunk. He knows he’s very drunk because he’s not even embarrassed for telling Louis he thinks he’s pretty.

Louis sort of chuckles and turns to give him a smirk. “You know, I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice tonight.”

Harry blushes again and just says, “because it’s true.”

“Not that I think you’ll remember this in the morning, but you’re quite pretty too, Harold. Now get some sleep. If you thought your hangover was bad this morning, you’re in for a rough day tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @ls2k14
> 
> This work in its entirety belongs to me, ls2k14. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal or print/distribute.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work in its entirety belongs to me, ls2k14. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal or print/distribute.

When Harry wakes up, he lets out the longest, most strangled sounding groan he thinks has ever been produced by a human. Ever. He feels like shit. Worse than shit. It’s terrible.

“Morning, sunshine.” That’s definitely not Niall. He peels his eyes open and is able to gather that he’s at least in his own bed. He looks over toward Niall’s side and flinches so hard, his body aches all the way through. Louis is sitting cross-legged on Niall’s bed with a steaming travel cup in his hands, the lid perched on his knee, blowing across the liquid to cool it off. There’s also a brown paper sack next to him. Harry’s pretty sure he smells muffins.

“Hullo.” Harry thinks something crawled into his mouth and died while he was sleeping. He desperately needs to brush his teeth. And maybe throw up. And definitely shower. Yuck.

He slowly sits up and immediately puts a hand to his head, as if that’ll help stop the spinning. When his duvet falls to his lap, he notices that he’s now shirtless. He’s pretty sure he fell asleep with his shirt on. 

“Uhm… Was I wearing a shirt when I went to bed?” He tentatively asks. Louis looks up from his phone and coughs into his fist.

“Uh, yeah. You were. You kind of woke up in the middle of the night and were mumbling about something, and, uh. Like, I thought you were gonna puke so I got up to hold your hair back or whatever. But, um, as soon as you saw me you asked me to help you out of your shirt. So I did. But then you, uh… You asked me to also help you out of your pants but I told you to keep them on so you just sort of huffed a bit and flopped back down. And before I could pull your blanket back up, you were already asleep. So…”

Oh. Fantastic. Of course. “Oh. Well, uh… Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that for me.” 

Louis shrugs in response and looks back to his phone. Harry reaches over for his own phone on the nightstand and notices the two small pills, water bottle, and travel mug that matches the one in Louis’ hands that have all been placed there. He takes the pills with a large gulp of water since his tea’s still too hot.

He starts to get out of bed and feels that there’s nothing separating his lower body and his sheets. He then looks to the ground and sees his pants from last night in the middle of the floor between the two beds. He looks up to Louis and sees him staring at the pants as well, accompanied by a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“I may have left out the part where you decided to rid yourself of your pants on your own before you flopped back into bed…”

Harry blushes furiously. _Of course_. He knew it was too good to be true. He always makes a massive fool of himself, he knew there had to be something else. Hell, there’s probably more that Louis’ leaving out. 

Louis lets out a laugh and scoots down from the bed. He walks toward Harry’s hamper and pulls out a pair of sweatpants that were hanging half off the side and throws them to Harry. He then turns his back so Harry can slide out of bed and into the sweats. 

Once he’s got himself covered, he says, “You can, uh. You can turn around now.”

Louis shoots him a small smile and goes to sit back on Niall’s bed. “Ni’s on his way back. Thought we could all grab some greasy hangover food when he gets here?”

Harry thinks a massive cheeseburger and greasy chips sound positively delightful. “Um, yeah. That sounds really good actually. I just need to shower and stuff first. If you don’t mind waiting a bit, that is.”

“Nah, mate. Take your time. We can wait for you.”

Harry sends him a smile of his own and proceeds to head to the bathroom with his towel, shower caddy and a fresh pair of pants. 

After he’s thrown up the remaining alcohol that was sitting in his stomach, brushed his teeth to the point his gums were numb, and thoroughly showered, he makes his way back to his room with his hair wrapped up in the towel like a turban and wearing nothing but his pants. The other students in their hall got used to Harry being mostly naked most of the time surprisingly quickly.

Niall and Louis are sitting on Niall’s bed, munching on the muffins Harry assumes were in the paper sack earlier, when he walks in. Neither of them pay him much mind as he finishes getting ready. By the time he’s dressed in new skinny jeans, a flannel and his boots, he has to tell them he’s ready since they’re too engrossed in their phones to have noticed on their own. 

He’s sipping on his water after they’ve placed their orders when Louis says, “So Zayn and Liam were quite… Physical last night.” Niall cackles. A bit too loudly for not just Harry’s liking, apparently, considering the amount of dirty looks they get from the other patrons. Niall rarely shows signs of hangovers and that’s among the many other reasons Harry hates him. Harry hates his best mate. Very much. 

“They could’n’ get enough ah each other, could they!” Niall nearly shouts.

Harry smiles because, yeah, he remembers them making out at the booth. And that was… Right after Louis took him there to sit down for a bit… Which was also right after he… Right after he saved him from that guy… Oh, god. That guy. Harry shivers just thinking about it. He didn’t notice a mark on his neck while he was getting ready, which is an extremely good thing. He was quite pushy… What was his name again? Something with an N. Nnnnn… Nate? No. N… Nick? Nick. He’s pretty sure it was Nick. 

“Hey Louis.” Louis looks over to him and Harry continues with, “What did you say to that guy last night? What’s his name? Nick?”

Louis pales. Literally. He was all golden skin and rosy cheeks and bright eyes and now he’s pale and dim and Harry hates himself a little bit for causing it. He didn’t realize it was that big of a deal…

“Uh… Well —” Louis starts but Niall cuts him off.

“Wait. Nick? As in Grimshaw? As in Nick Grimshaw? Grimmy!?”

“Christ Niall, shut up already. Yeah, it was Grimshaw.” And, oh. That makes a bit more sense in Harry’s head now that he knows it’s the same person from the pub the other night. “I saw he was givin’ ya a hard time so I thought I’d interrupt. You didn’t look too happy to have him slobbering all down your neck.”

Harry feel his cheeks heat up with his blush. “Uh, yeah. I don’t really… Um. Yeah. Thanks. We were just kind of dancing at first… But then I remember he kind of… Like, wouldn’t let go of me? Does that sound right?”

Louis’ just staring at him now. He’s gotten his color back but he actually looks more flushed than normal. But not in the same way Harry is. He can tell Louis’ heated cheeks aren’t from embarrassment. If Harry didn’t know him better, he’d say Louis actually looks like he’s trying to not get pissed.

“Jesus, mate. Sorry I wasn’t there ta help ya. I had no clue he was even there. I wouldn’t’ve left ya there alone if I had. I knew Grimmy likes to come on strong when he finds someone he likes, but damn. Never knew he’d not take no for an answer.” Niall looks apologetic and Louis is just looking more and more pissed off. 

“I told you, Ni. He’s a creep.” Louis spits out. Harry’s just kind of sitting there, really; going over what he can remember of the incident. If he hadn’t been so trashed, he would have been able to handle it himself. But he was so drunk he had to have Louis pry the guy off his back and then take care of him all night. He’s a right mess when he drinks.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize him from the pub. He was okay at first, but I guess I was too drunk to realize when it stopped actually being okay. I shouldn’t have drank that much…”

Louis stops his apologies at that point. “Hey, no. No. You were fine. You were with friends and that arsehole was trying to take advantage of you. It’s not your fault. I just know how to handle him, is all.” Louis reaches across the table to squeeze Harry’s hand briefly, then promptly changes the subject. “So me mum called this morning and was telling me —”

———

They part ways after lunch; Harry with his laptop to the library to work on his articles, Niall and Louis to Zayn and Liam’s for video games. He works pretty hard for a while, not letting himself get easily distracted or off task. He gets all of his articles done except one that’s nearly there. When he checks the time, it’s nearly ten o’clock, so he packs up and heads back to his dorm.

Niall’s laying on his bed when he gets there, messing about on his phone again. Harry seriously wonders if he ever actually does his school work.

They chat a bit before deciding to turn in for the night. Instead of counting sheep or whatever it is that normal people to do fall asleep, he’s going through everything he has to do this week and resolutely not thinking about this past weekend’s events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @ls2k14
> 
> This work in its entirety belongs to me, ls2k14. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal or print/distribute.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work in its entirety belongs to me, ls2k14. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal or print/distribute.

Harry’s just walking through the student union after meeting with some of the other students working for the university newsletter when he hears someone calling his name.

“Harry! Wait up!” He turns around to see Louis jogging toward him with a bright smile on his face. Is he dreaming? “Hey! On your way to class?”

He actually looks around to see if he recognizes anyone else by the name of Harry before remembering he doesn’t know any who attend their uni. He should definitely be dubbed King of Awkward Encounters. It’s quite fitting.

“Oh. Uh, no. I just got done with a meeting. I was just going to head back to my dorm.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ve class in little while, do you maybe wanna grab a cuppa and kill some time with me? Unless you’re busy. Then that’s totally cool. Or, you know, like… If you just don’t want to, that’s fine too. Totally up to you!” He decides to stop Louis’ rambling before it goes on any longer.

Harry smiles at him and says, “Yeah, that’d be nice. I was thinking of stopping to grab one on my way back anyway. Where d’you prefer?”

Louis leads him to the café where Harry spilled tea all over his shoes just a few days ago. He’s finding it hard to believe it hasn’t been longer; it feels like they’ve made a lot of progress toward becoming friends in such little time. And they haven’t done much together other than get drunk and hang out with Niall. Oh, well.

They pick a table and Louis offers to get their drinks, arguing “I was the one who dragged you down here, I can at least pay for your tea.”

Harry’s scrolling through his Instagram when the familiar sound of a cardboard cup being set on the table pulls his head up. He smiles at Louis as he sits down across from him. “Thanks again for paying for my drink.”

“It’s no problem at all, Curly. Now not another word of it. How’s your day been so far?”

“Not bad, really. Had a couple of classes this morning, and that meeting just a bit ago. I have to finish up an article and sort through some other projects still today, though. How about you?”

“Good, yeah. Got me class here in about an hour. What’s your article on?”

They chat aimlessly until Louis sighs and says he’d better get going before he’s late to his class again. 

As they’re exiting the café, Louis says, “We should do this more often. It’s nice spending time with you. You really need to take Niall up on his offers to join us for lad’s night each week; we all know you’re just making up excuses to not come.”

Harry’s jaw drops open and is stumbling through another apology when Louis laughs and interrupts him.

“Harry. It’s okay. Just come next time, yeah? Tomorrow. At my place. We always have pizza and beer, which I’m sure you know. We really do want you to come.”

“Okay…”

“Thatta boy, Harold. I’ve gotta run now, but I’ll see you soon.” He squeezes Harry’s wrist lightly before he turns and walks the other way down the sidewalk. Harry watches him go for a few seconds too long before catching himself and heading back to his room.

———

Harry is going to kill Niall. Just in case that hasn’t already been established, he’d like everyone to know. 

They’ve been at Louis, Zayn, and Liam’s for literally seven minutes. Seven. And Niall has already managed to bring up the fact that Harry has been to every single one of Louis’ footy games since he discovered he was on the team. 

Louis’ got this strange look on his face; it’s a mixture between surprise, shock, awe, and something else, but Harry’s too busy glaring at Niall to study it well enough to figure it out. Liam and Zayn just look shocked.

“Really?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, mate! He usually writes about it for those articles of his, but even when he doesn’t have to, he makes some excuse about going. Usually drags me along with ‘em. Ya play quite alright, Lou.”

“Well I would hope so since he’s the bloody captain, Niall.” Harry smacks his hand over his own mouth once he realizes what he’s just said. He, along with the other boys he assumes, knows that Louis has never specifically told him that. So he just completely ruined all of his chances of denying any of what Niall said. And all on his own. How perfect.

“Why don’t we all go next time, then? There’s a game on Thursday. Right, Lou?” Liam chimes in, smiling slightly at Harry like he knows something he’s not supposed to. Harry just closes his eyes and wishes this wasn’t happening.

“Yeah. It’s a big one, too. If we win this one, we’ll win the league,” he hears Louis say.

“Alright. Then it’s settled. We’ll all go cheer for Lou on Thursday, and we can go get pints after. Sound good, boys?”

“You had me at pints!” Niall should really stop yelling all the time.

———

Harry is currently sitting on the bleachers watching Louis sprint down the pitch as his teammate attempts to dribble around his defender. Louis breaks free from his own, and somehow picks up more speed, racing toward the goal and yelling for the ball.

“HE’S _OPEN!_ GIVE IT TA LOU! PASS THE _BLOODY_ BALL!” Once Harry has made sure that his right ear has not lost it’s ability to pick up sound, he glances toward the family sitting a few seats to his left. He mouths a genuine apology to them before elbowing Niall in the hip, since he’s apparently stood up as well.

“ _Niall,_ there are children here,” he hisses.

He only gets a shrug in response, so he turns back to the game just in time to watch Mr. Number Fourteen pass the ball to Louis. He accepts the pass absolutely gracefully, which is a strange way to think of it but true nonetheless, and as he’s hurdling toward the goal, Harry’s heart is hurdling toward his throat.

Louis takes four more long strides and shoots with such precision that it has no other option but to sail past the goalie’s hands and collide with the netting at the back of the upper righthand corner of the goal.

Harry doesn’t even realize he stood up and started cheering until he can feel the rest of the crowd calming down and situating themselves back into their seats around him. He looks to his right and finds Niall, Liam and Zayn giving him three different variations of a knowing look. He glances back to the field just as he’s about to sit back down and his body just sort of locks up once he sees Louis again.

Louis’ pointing at him. Louis is smiling and pointing at Harry. Louis is smiling that blinding smile, the one that makes his eyes get all crinkly and cute, and he’s now shooting Harry a double thumbs up.

And Harry is locked with his knees slightly bent and his arse pushed back, frozen in his almost sitting state, with his mouth agape and what is probably a crimson colored flush to his cheeks.

Niall yanks him down by his belt. Plopping into his own seat, he manages to send Louis a small smile and a half-hearted thumbs up back.

Once the final whistle has been blown, Harry and the lads make their way onto the pitch where Louis’ team is hugging and cheering and throwing water on each other in celebration. Niall sprints up to Louis and picks him up in one of those spinny-hug-things that you always see couples do at the airport when one has been away for a while.

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

“Harry. Mate. Y’alright?” Harry comes back to himself and looks to Zayn to his left. He nods shakily and hopes his face isn’t too telling. Based on the look Zayn shoots him, it most certainly told him everything he’s been trying not to let out. “He did well, huh?”

Harry nods again, this time a bit more firmly. “Y-yeah,” he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah. Really well. He was brilliant. More than, even.”

Zayn smiles at him and pats him on the shoulder blade. By the time they both turn back to what had been Niall twirling Louis around and doing some sort of weird, Irish victory jig, Louis is pulling himself out of Liam’s embrace.

Louis turns to Zayn and Harry and throws his arms out wide, launching himself at Zayn. Harry can hear them muffling words into each other’s shoulders. He give them a bit of space, starting to inch toward where Niall and Liam are watching on fondly.

“Oi! Styles. Don’t think you’re getting out of a sweaty hug that easily.” He turns back around to see Zayn grinning and Louis walking toward him. “C’mon, then. Bring it in.”

And who is he to deny Louis of anything? He’s expecting a hug similar to the one Louis shared with Niall, but with significantly less spinning and swirling. What he gets instead almost takes his breath away.

Louis wraps his arms snugly around Harry’s waist, managing to brush his fingertips against the opposite sides of his body. He tucks his nose deep down into the junction of Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry curls his own arms around Louis’ shoulders as far as he can and tips his head down to nuzzle the side of Louis’ head. He didn’t even mean to, really. It feels so natural and just _right_ that his instincts took over before he could even process he was moving.

He feels Louis relax into his body and let out a long sigh that brushes across his collarbones. “Thank you,” Louis barely manages to mumble with how his face is practically smushed against Harry’s body.

“For what?”

“For coming today. For cheering for me. For coming to the games before today. Just… Thank you, Harry.”

Harry huffs a short laugh and replies, “Of course. M’sorry if it’s creepy knowing that I’ve been to most of your games without telling you. I—”

“Hush. S’not creepy; it’s actually sort of nice. My family often can’t make it with everything they’ve got going on so it’s kind of relieving knowing I’ve had someone cheering me on, even though I didn’t know it at the time.” Louis pulls back but keeps his hands on Harry’s waist for a beat longer to say, “Really, H. Thank you.”

Harry blushes and tucks his chin to his chest. “S’really no problem. I like coming.”

“Oi, lovebirds! Are we gonna make it to the pub or should I head back with these two so you can have some _alone time_?”

Harry’s entire face feels like it just burst into flames. He’s really going to kill Niall one of these days.

Louis sends him a quick wink before turning to Niall. “I’ve gotta get changed but I’ll be out in about 10. Calm your tits, Nialler,” he says as he walks backwards toward the bench to gather his things.

———

The pub is positively packed. They’ve been here for maybe an hour, and they’ve already gone through three rounds of celebratory shots and they’re finishing up their second round of pints.

Their usual seating arrangement has been changed tonight, for some reason that Harry can only assume is Niall’s doing. Rather than taking their typical circular hightop table, they’ve managed to squeeze into a booth toward the back corner, and instead of Harry being across from Louis, he finds himself being squeezed between Niall and Louis, pressed tight, thighs to shoulders, and being faced by Liam and Zayn.

Liam and Zayn, who just so happen to be sharing quick glances with Niall every twenty seconds or so. But every time Harry turns to see the face Niall is making, the other lad has schooled his expression into his normal cheery face.

He rolls his eyes and huffs, reaching out to grab a chip from the bowl in the middle of the table, only realizing seconds too late that Louis is doing the same thing. Their fingers brush and a shiver is sent up Harry’s arm and down his spine. They look to each other, both wearing matching blushing cheeks and small smiles.

Zayn makes a faint gagging noise, stopping once he’s apparently been kicked in the shin by someone. Liam jumps up from his seat and starts yanking on Zayn’s arm to pull him along with him, throwing some excuse about “getting the next round” on their way into the crowd. Niall stands up next, mumbling something along the lines of “wanting to dance or needing to piss or something.”

Harry and Louis are alone in the booth. Their friends just set that whole thing up under their noses. Harry is _really_ going kill Niall. And soon. He scoots over just enough to where it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to force Louis through the wall, then coughs into his fist.

He’s about to attempt some form of conversation, but before he can, Louis turns to him abruptly. “Do you wanna dance?”

Harry’s a bit shocked, honestly. He thought he was going to have to sit here and be his awkward self until either the lads came back or Louis decided to get up and leave. He’s really starting to feel the tequila running through is veins from the shots, so he decides to throw caution to the wind. He nods and stands up, wobbling a bit once he’s upright. Okay, so he’s maybe feeling it a lot now that he thinks of it.

Louis steadies him with a hand on his hip and a sly smile. He stands up, getting right up in Harry’s space. He wraps his dainty fingers around Harry’s wrist and gives a slight squeeze. “Let’s go,” he says with smirk, looking up at Harry through those sinful eyelashes he has.

Harry lets himself be pulled through the crowd by Louis; lets himself be taken away by the music and the bass and the atmosphere of the dance floor. He sways and swirls his hips, throwing his arms over his head in his classic “uncool dad” dance move. He thinks he hears Louis laugh, but then he’s being pulled back by his hips by those same dainty fingers that lead him here just minutes previously.

He feels Louis’ body get closer and closer to his own with each note that fills the air. He can feel the mere inches separating their bodies and decides to close the distance on his own. He presses back against Louis, bending his knees slightly so his bum can lightly brush against the general area of Louis’ groin.

He feels Louis’ groan rather than hears it, Louis huffing a deep breath onto Harry’s neck, so he pushes back again, this time just a bit more forcefully. And he feels it. It’s definitely there. Louis is more than half hard and groaning near Harry’s ear each time their bodies press together. 

They start to grind together, creating exactly the kind of friction they’re both looking for. And in the next few seconds, Harry goes from comfortably grinding on Louis to feeling particularly chilly along his backside. He turns around to see what happened to Louis only to find him looking rather heated in a conversation with that Nick Grimshaw guy.

He can’t really hear what they’re saying over the music and the few steps separating them, but then Louis is poking his pointer finger in Nick’s chest and looking more angry than Harry has ever seen him. He goes to pull Louis away before things can get out of hand. As he’s reaching out to grab onto Louis’ hips, Nick shoves Louis back and into him. He’s barely able to keep them both upright.

Louis launches back at Nick, the adrenaline and alcohol apparently somehow giving him some sort of weird boost in speed and strength. His fist connects with Nick’s jaw at the exact moment the current song fades out to let a new one begin. Everyone within a ten foot radius of them snaps their heads in their direction at the awful snapping and crunching sounds Nick’s face makes.

Harry is stunned, to say the least. He knows he needs to grab Louis and hightail it out of there, and fast, before the bouncers or security or whoever gets to them, but he can’t really get his feet to move quite yet.

“Back the _fuck_ off, _mate_. Stay the _fuck_ away from me, and you had _god damn_ better stay the _fuck_ away from Harry. Or next time it won’t just be your jaw that gets broken.”

And that’s Harry’s cue. He reaches out and places a gentle hand on Louis’ shoulder, “Lou. We gotta go. Like, now.” He slides his hand down Louis’ arm and laces their fingers together. He starts backing away, tugging on Louis, and looks down at Nick holding his face in both hands. He’s not sure what was said but it had to have been bad for Louis to literally break someone’s jaw over it.

Louis finally starts to follow him so he turns around and starts speed walking toward the exit. His keys and phone are both in his coat, so he prays Niall will be sober enough to remember to go back for their things.

They get outside, Harry practically dragging Louis more than half of the way. They walk two more blocks before Harry stops, not letting go of Louis’ hand just yet. Louis takes the three steps to be even with Harry and they both just stand there and breathe for a minute or two.

When Harry turns to check on him, though, he instantly envelops Louis in a tight hug, his nose pressed to the warm spot where his shoulder meets his neck. “I don’t know what happened or what he said, but thank you. Thank you for looking out for me and protecting me.” He stops talking once he feels Louis shaking, and pulls back just far enough to see his face but keep his arms wrapped around his shoulders. “No, no, no, Lou. Don’t cry. Please. You’re fine, I promise. Are you hurt? Did you hurt your hand? What’s wrong?” He moves his arms now so he can cup Louis’ face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down Louis’ face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! That was too much. He just made me so mad, he was talking about you and just said these things and it was too much and I know I’m not your boyfriend but I’d like to be and I don’t have any right to do that stuff for you but he just said all of that and I couldn’t just. I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Harry…” Louis snuffles and hiccups through his whole speech, barely stopping to breathe, and the more he says, the more tears fall down his face and the more Harry’s heart breaks.

“It’s okay, Lou. It’s really okay, I’m glad you did. It’s fine, I swear. Don’t cry, love, please stop crying,” Harry responds. Then he takes in what Louis said. _I’m not your boyfriend but I’d like to be._ _I’m not your boyfriend but I’d like to be._ _I’m not your boyfriend but I’d like to be._ “Lou…”

Louis sniffles some more, but eventually raises his eyes to meet Harry’s once he realizes there’s nothing else Harry’s going to say until he has his attention. “Y-yeah…?”

“Lou… Did. Did you just say…?”

“Did I say what?” Sniffle, sniffle.

“I think. Did you just, you said you’d like to be my… My boyfriend?”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his cheeks were already flushed from the alcohol and the chill of the night, but they somehow glow an even deeper red in the sparse light from the lampposts they’re standing between. He opens his mouth to reply, but ends up fish mouthing for a few more seconds. “I. Uh, I. I don’t really… I mean, it’s just. You’re like…” He waves his hands about at his sides a bit, and continues, “You know? And like, I.” He gives the slightest shrug, his eyes darting around like he’s looking for the words to be written on the walls of the building next to them.

Harry has no words. Louis just admitted he wants to be his boyfriend. His _boyfriend_. Like, to be in a _relationship_ with him. All he can come up with is, “Really? You want to be my boyfriend?” 

When Louis glances to him, he must see that Harry is being completely sincere and serious, because he stares into the green eyes already watching him and nods. Two simple movements, chin tilting up, chin tilting back down. That’s it.

The smile that forms on Harry’s face must be at least a bit manic, but who can blame him? He’s happy. Ecstatic. Overjoyed. Elated. Delighted. Euphoric. Any other synonyms you could think of.

He doesn’t waste any more time trying to figure out the right word for what he’s feeling. With his hands still cupping Louis’ cheeks, he brushes his thumbs under his eyes once more, gently tilts Louis’ head to the side while slowly leaning in. He looks down to Louis’ lips, then back up to his beautiful blue eyes before closing his own.

The kiss is soft, a gentle caress of their lips against the other’s. He feels strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling them tighter. After two more sweet pecks, he feels Louis’ tongue tracing the line of his bottom lip. He parts his lips to let Louis in, getting lost in something he’s thought about for months.

When they finally break apart, wide smiles with swollen lips, Louis chuckles. “So… Does this mean I can be your boyfriend, then?”

Harry throws his head back and squawks a laugh so loud that it echoes down the street. He claps his hands over his mouth and meets Louis’ eyes again. He’s got his crinkly eyed smile on, showing nearly all of his teeth. His hands move to cover Harry’s, pulling them away from his face. “Is that a yes?”

Harry chuckles again, and starts nodding. “ _God_ , yes! Lou, I’ve been pining over you for _months_!”

Louis face morphs into shock in a split second. “ _Months_!? Harry! Are you kidding!?”

“No!”

“You utter _tit_!” He laughs, then continues, “Harry. I’ve liked you since I first saw you at the first match you came to with that little journal of yours you use to take notes in!”

“No! No way! I’ve liked you since I first saw you warming up on the pitch before that first match I went to!”

“This is insane,” Louis says, shaking his head softly. He looks back up into Harry’s eyes again, pulling them back together where they’ve spaced out just a few inches in their mutual excitement and wonder. “Looks like we’ve got a lot of catching up to do, then,” He says with a smirk.

Harry smiles, and ducks his head to kiss his _boyfriend_ again. _Boyfriend. Louis_ is his _boyfriend_ now. He presses their lips together, pulls back just enough to say, “Looks like it.” He feels Louis huff a laugh against his lips, smiles wider, and kisses him again.

They’ve got some catching up to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on tumblr! @ls2k14
> 
> This work in its entirety belongs to me, ls2k14. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal or print/distribute.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic. Please be nice. My tumblr is maggieisalarrie (previously ls2k14). If you like this and are interested in a sequel, please consider joining my [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/maggieisalarrie%20) family! 
> 
> And again, just for reference:
> 
> This work in its entirety belongs to ls2k14/maggieisalarrie and is also open to constructive criticism. 
> 
> I am not affiliated with One Direction or any of the members in any way, other than being a fan.
> 
> This story is complete fiction. Nothing in this story has ever happened and is not real to the complete extent of my knowledge. No offense is intended. This work does not reflect the real life people mentioned in this story at all. 
> 
> Please do not copy, edit, steal, translate, or print/distribute.


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